petals

Late April

the street corners fill with petals

and it falls to someone

in deep night

or bare morning

to come and remove them. 

Perhaps it is the wind

that does this job

or the soil

or whatever it is

to which wild things return

once their work is done. 

Tomorrow new petals 

will replace the old

and I 

stepping gingerly

will think

how ludicrous it is

to live among such abundance

that it must be swept up

to allow you to pass.